


Scars

by Zoe13



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Self Harm, soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe13/pseuds/Zoe13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where soulmates share physical marks, Luke struggles with hiding someone else's scars, someone else's pain. And each new cut only makes him want to find them more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

It was seven o'clock when Luke sat cross-legged on his bed and rolled down his sleeve. His wrists were marked with jagged scars from cuts he'd never felt the pain of. 

He thought about everything he knew about his soulmate. He figured that his soulmate lived in a similar time zone because they probably wouldn't cut during school, but he couldn't know for sure. He didn't know if they were male or female, if they were his age, and most importantly of all, why they marked themselves like this. 

A new cut faded into existence on Luke's arm and he watched as it knit together, an angry red. He never bled but he knew that his soulmate did- the cuts were too deep for them not to. 

It was hard to hide the cuts from other people, but he didn't want people to worry about him when he wasn't hurting himself. He knew they wouldn't last forever, too. His parents had told him that when he met his soulmate, he would lose his soulmate's marks and his soulmate would lose his. All his soulmate had gotten from him so far, though, was a scar from a sledding accident when he was five and lots of bruises from where his long legs ran into things because he couldn't calculate the distance when they wouldn't stop growing.

Another slash appeared and it bloomed into existence at an alarming rate, long and deep. Luke held his breath. Another, deeper, one appeared and soon they were appearing faster than Luke could count them. 

"No, no no no!" Luke pulled up his other sleeve and watched, horrified, as long, jagged cuts appeared on it. They were so _deep_. There was no doubt in his mind what his soulmate's intention was.

"Luke?" His mother called up the stairs.

" _Mom_!" Luke wailed, clutching his wrist even though he couldn't feel any pain. Her steps sounded loudly as she ran up the stairs.

"Luke, honey, what's wrong?" She asked, hurrying to him.

She knew about the scars but her eyes went wide when he wordlessly held out his arms. They were _covered_ in bloodless cuts. 

"Mom, I don't know what to _do_ ," he sobbed, realizing that he was crying. What if his soulmate died?

"Oh, _Luke._ " She took his right arm, looking at the cuts. Suddenly they stopped appearing and Luke wailed again, shuddering. 

"No no no," he buried his face in his mother's shoulder. "I can't help, I can't do anything!"

He cried until he fell asleep, hating himself for not being able to do anything.

_______

He shot up in bed with a gasp, his eyes flying open. He was tucked in and the lights were out. His clock read 3:08 and he hurriedly turned on the lamp by his bed, looking at his arms. 

He had never before been glad to see the scars but he knew that the fact that they were still there meant that his soulmate was still alive. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. When he looked more closely, he saw tiny rows of holes running on either side of each cut and realized that they were from stitches. Someone must have found his soulmate and gotten them to a hospital. 

He found himself crying with relief. 

_______

Since he was five years old, Michael's parents had told him he didn't have a soulmate. It was rare but it did happen. He never got scars and had never gotten a broken bone, and the specialist told him that it was common to get bruises and not remember how. The only out of the ordinary thing was a thin, white scar above his left eyebrow, but his parents assured him that he had fallen down plenty of times as a child. 

Kids at school found out somehow, as they have a tendency to do with things that no one knows about, and Michael hadn't had a moment's peace. He had no friends. He was so unloveable, so unwanted, that he would never have a soulmate.

His parents didn't hate him, but their affection for him drifted away. Most people were ashamed when their child had no soulmate, and his parents grew to wonder what was wrong with him. The more years that went by, the less Michael clung to the hope that they were wrong. When his sixteenth birthday rolled around, he gave up. He turned his cutting into one suicide attempt, then another, then another. 

Now, after his third attempt, his parents had transferred him to a new school. Fortunately, none of his teachers introduced him to the entire class, and the first day he found a back corner seat in every classroom and hid from sight. No one noticed the boy with hood over his face, slumped over his desk as far from everyone else as possible. 

The second day, however, someone slid into the seat next to him at lunch.

"Calum," he said.

"What?" Michael asked, his voice a bit raspy from disuse. He turned and looked at the boy beside him, taking in the rounded eyes and black hair, but most of all his open smile. 

"M'name. It's Calum."

"Oh." Michael fidgeted, plucking a loose thread on his hoodie. "I'm Michael."

"Do you want to be friends?" Calum asked. "I like Blink too." He nodded toward Michael's shirt before picking up his food and taking a large bite. 

"I don't think you'll want to," Michael said quietly, looking at his lap.

"Why not? You- shit, that looks painful." The boy- Calum- giggled, and Michael followed his gaze. A large bruise was blossoming on his forearm.

"Soulmate?" Michael asked.

"Yup. I think he's a little clumsy."

"I don't have one," Michael said, because he knew everyone would find out anyway.

"Cool," Calum said nonchalantly. "No weird injuries to explain. What other bands do you like?"

Michael couldn't speak for a whole minute.

_______

"Shit!" Ashton whined at Luke, wincing. "Look what I did to my arm!"

Luke looked at the large bruise forming on Ashton's forearm and winced.

"How'd you do that?"

"Dropped my chemistry textbook on it. Those things are fucking huge!"

Luke looked at Ashton's pale and unmarked wrist and sighed.

"How's your arm?" Ashton asked gently, noticing Luke's face.

"Same. I think they're done for a while. They haven't tried in three weeks and they're cutting their thigh now."

"Why?"

"Ran out of room, I guess." Luke winced. 

"Can I see?" Ashton asked. When Luke nodded and held out his arm, he pushed up his sleeve. He sucked in a breath. "Man, they've really done a number on themselves."

Luke had been serious about the running out of room. There wasn't much unmarked flesh left on either arm. He'd memorized every cut, knew the patterns and which way each scar went. If someone drew it on a piece of paper he'd recognize it. He couldn't help staring at it each night, thinking about how he'd almost lost his soulmate three times. 

Ashton yanked Luke's sleeve down as someone walked by and Luke checked the time. 

"We should get to class," he said, standing and gathering his things. Ashton followed suit and they headed to class together. 

"Hey, new kid," Ashton said, motioning toward a boy in the corner. His hood was pulled up and his head was resting on his arms. 

"He looks tired," Luke said sympathetically, even though he couldn't see his face. 

"Aren't we all?" Ashton asked.

_______

Michael was exhausted. He and Calum had stayed up late playing guitar and he'd had the urge to cut after Calum headed home. Being around Calm helped a little but his parents were fighting and Michael had started wondering if he was the reason why. 

History was dragging extra today and Michael's eyes wandered. Calum was nodding off next to him. The girl forward one seat and three to the left was doodling- he could tell by how her pencil was moving. The boy one row up and across the aisle was twirling his pencil in his left hand. 

His sleeve rode up a bit and Michael saw multiple angry red lines running right up to his palm. He gripped his chair, sympathy running through him. The boy seemed attractive enough and Michael couldn't imagine that he got bullied. He didn't look depressed but he knew not to be fooled by that. 

The boy sitting by the first one looked down at his arm and hastily pulled his sleeve down. They exchanged a look that Michael couldn't see and turned back to the teacher. 

He was distracted by Calum jerking awake as he almost fell out of his seat.

_______

Michael didn't even know where he was going- he just ran. His mother's words ran through him: _don't get your hopes up, you don't have a soulmate!_

He knew what she meant, _don't get **my** hopes up_ , and he read between the lines. He _was_ why his parents were fighting, why they would probably get a divorce. He'd tried to convince them that he might have a soulmate even though he knew he didn't because _maybe they would stay_ , then. But they just shot him down. When he'd realized what he'd put his parents through, he'd fled the house in tears. He hadn't even stopped to grab a hoodie and he knew he looked pathetic, running down the sidewalk with tears on his face and scars on his arms.  _  
_

He didn't realize he had headed toward the park until he actually got there. He stumbled through the entrance only to crash right into someone, unable to see because of the tears.

"I'm sorry!" He cried, scrambling to his feet and wiping his eyes. He held out his hand to help them up.

The person sitting on the ground in front of him was the boy he'd seen with the scars. He was staring up at him open mouthed and Michael retracted his arm when the boy glanced between it and his face. He'd forgotten about the cuts. He crossed his arms, trying to hide them.

The boy scrambled to his feet and yanked up his sleeves, thrusting his arms toward Michael. Michael stared at him for a moment, confused, before looking down at them. Both arms bore exact replicas of the scars and cuts on his own, and they were slowly fading, the way scars did when someone-

Met their soulmate. 

The boy reached up and touched Michael's forehead above his left eyebrow, smiling softly, and Michael saw the same scar above his. 

"Hi," he said gently, and Michael found that he couldn't speak. Instead he stared at him, wide-eyed.

Finally he forced a sentence out. "I don't understand."

"I'm your soulmate," the boy smiled at him. Michael stared at him dumbly. He wanted it to be true so, so badly, but it wasn't possible that this beautiful boy was _Michael's_. He didn't have anyone but Calum and Calum had a soulmate he would find someday. 

"I don't have a soulmate," he said dully.

"What? But your arms- I'd know those anywhere. And you- you had the scar above your left eyebrow. I got it from sledding."

"I don't have a soulmate," Michael repeated, though he suddenly felt a tiny ray of hope.

"You have 74 cuts you gave yourself 53 days ago, and the word 'worthless' cut into your left thigh. There's only one way I could know that." He stared Michael in the eye, as if daring him to question it. Michael couldn't. 

There was nothing to question about it. He was right- he'd counted the 74 cuts while he'd made them and he _did_ have 'worthless' cut into his left thigh. 

Realization hit him like a freight train and he stared at the other boy before bursting into tears. his legs gave out but the boy caught him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him up.

"It's okay, I'm gonna be here for you," he comforted him. "I love you, okay?"

"I thought I didn't have a soulmate," Michael choked out, clinging to the boy, to his _soulmate_. "Everyone thought I was a freak except Calum and I only met him recently-" 

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Calm down." His voice was soothing and Michael managed to calm down after a minute. He inhaled deeply and clung to the other boy.

"I'm Michael," he said finally, pulling back and wiping his eyes again so he could look at the other boy. 

"Luke," he said softly. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"I suppose you would have known you had a soulmate- oh my god!" Guilt hit Michael violently. 

"What?"

"You had all those scars for years and- if I'd known I never would have- I'm so sorry, I didn't think I had a soulmate."

"It's okay," Luke told him. "The hard part was when you tried to- to kill yourself. Three times."

"I'm sorry," Michael said again, and Luke's lip trembled as his eyes filled with tears.

"I was so worried!" He cried. "Every time I thought I'd lost you for sure and I'd wake up and cry with relief when I saw that the scars were still there, that there were stitch marks because someone had found you. God, I've felt so _helpless_."

He leaned in suddenly and Michael thought he was going to hug him, but he kissed him instead, meeting his lips and cupping his face. Their lips moved together and Michael felt light, carefree all of a sudden. It felt so right that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Luke was his soulmate. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Luke's neck, pulling him close and responding eagerly, forgetting everything else in the world for a moment. 

When they separated, Luke took Michael's hand in his own and smiled shyly at him. 

"I don't know what to do now," Michael confessed. 

"Would you- would you come meet my mum?" Luke asked, biting his lip nervously.

"I'd love to," Michael said. "If you think she won't mind..."

"She's wanted to meet you almost as much as I have," Luke said. He tugged at Michael's hand. "Come on, we have loads to talk about!"

Michael followed silently, smiling as he let Luke pulled him out of the park. 

_______

Calum was sporting a black eye when he tackled Michael the next day. 

"What's his name? What's he like? How old is he?" He fired off. 

"Luke Hemmings, amazing, and...I'm not quite sure. He's in our grade and he actually goes here."

"What? I've never heard of him!" Calum protested. 

"It's a big school, Cal."

"When can I meet him?"

"I told him where we sit for lunch," Michael said. "He's coming to sit with us. I hope that's okay."

"'Okay'?" Calum repeated. "That's fantastic!"

"So is that _your_ black eye or..." Michael started, but he trailed off as Luke approached with another boy in tow. A boy with a black eye that perfectly matched Calum's.

"What?" Calum turned. "Oh my god!" 

Luke dodged as Calum flew to his feet and charged at the boy next to him. 

"Look!" He yelled in his face, pointing at his black eye.

Michael missed the rest of the conversation as Luke sat by him, taking his hand. 

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Michael said back. "And...I love you too."

Luke's smile more than made up for all the lonely years.


End file.
